


Make Way for Puffins

by missdibley



Series: Somewhere, Ireland [3]
Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Ireland, RPF, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3879082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Esme take advantage of a bank holiday weekend, traveling to the Dingle peninsula for a holiday.</p><p>Puffins and pebbles and feels. ALL THE FEELS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Road from Dingle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I want to hear all about what Luke and your agents have got cooked up for you. But you've done nothing but talk about it since we got to Ireland. We may as well have brought them out here with us."

"Baby, do you want to split a cone or should we get our own thing?"

I was standing in [Murphy's Ice Cream](http://www.murphysicecream.ie/) in Dingle, my nose pressed up against the case of ice creams and sorbets so hard I'd probably left skin cells on the glass. When my question was greeted by no reply but silence, I popped up and look around the cozy sun-lit shop.

No Tom.

Behind me in the queue there was just an older Swiss couple flipping through a German guide to Ireland, and a couple of children counting out euro coins in their hands while chattering about what to order (["Sea salt!"](http://www.murphysicecream.ie/flavours.html) "Ew, no! Chocolate!"), their mother catching a breath in a chair just a few feet behind them.

I turned back to the sweet lad behind the counter, who offered me another sample of the Dingle gin ice cream. He grinned at me under his tweed cap.

"It's best with the black currant sorbet." He advised. "And I think your companion is outside on his mobile."

He pointed with his chin and I followed it, looking out the window to see Tom pacing on the sidewalk, his phone stuck to his ear. He was listening and nodding, looking a little too intense and distracted for somebody who had spirited their girlfriend away for a bank holiday weekend getaway to Ireland.

"At least he was polite enough to step out of the shop," I muttered. I drew myself up and got back to the business at hand.

"Okay, then, let's have the Dingle sea salt and... the black currant sorbet. In a cup. The big one."

"Something for sir?" The boy asked as he began to scoop my order.

"No," I sighed, before handing over a 5 euro note to pay for my ice cream. "I guess he can have some of mine."

* * *

"And then he said..." Tom was talking as he drove us out further west on the peninsula for an afternoon hike.

A map of the peninsula, with a route to the Slea Head marked by the nice ladies at the visitor's centre in town, lay unfolded in my lap. I pretended it was the most fascinating thing in the world, studying it like it was the Rosetta Stone.

But no matter how much I focused on the map, the sound of Tom's voice going on and on about an audition he was waiting to hear back about, and then about some appearances Luke wanted him to make, and all this work I thought he'd promised to leave behind in London, came at me, like the waves of the Atlantic battering the cliffs I saw every time I looked outside the passenger window.

"So what do you think?" Tom's voice sounded expectant. I panicked for a second when I realized he wanted me to say something meaningful, like I had been listening.

"Um, it all sounds really interesting." Shit. The use of the word "interesting" is my tell, the sign that I hadn't an idea what to say at all.

"Liar," Tom teased. "You weren't even listening."

"No," I confessed. "Not that I don't find you endlessly fascinating..."

"Shut it, miss." Tom chuckled, then began to drum his fingers on the steering wheel. "What's bothering you?"

"What's bothering you?" I shot back. "You've done nothing but talk about work ever since we got here."

"It's important! I'm waiting to hear back on that audition, and Luke's been after me about some appearances to make up for the ones I missed in February."

"I know! I love that you work so hard, and that you work so much." I started folding the map into a rectangle, pressing the creases hard, before slipping it into the glove compartment. I looked at my hands.

"I want to hear all about what Luke and your agents have got cooked up for you. But you've done nothing but talk about it since we got to Ireland. We may as well have brought them out here with us."

I couldn't tell if that last crack was a little below the belt, or just a tease. To be honest, I'd meant it to be somewhere in between. I looked up from my hands to find Tom was still staring at the road ahead. His jaw was moving, like he was clenching it. Impatient. This didn't look good.

"I love you," I whispered. I reached out for his left hand, but he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"Sorry, I have to focus on the road. It's winding a bit here on the cliffs." Tom shifted gears and the car leaped forward. I was jerked a bit back in my seat, like I'd just been slapped.

"Yeah. Sure. That's fine." I slipped on my [Ray-Bans](http://www.ray-ban.com/usa/sunglasses/RB3030%20unisex%201-outdoorsman-gold/805289602163?pid=IP01_G-BRD-Sunglasses-Style-Exact_Style-Name-Outdoorsman_ray-ban-outdoorsman), then turned and pressed my forehead against my window, looking at the islands off the coast, and the gulls flying overhead. I wondered which of the islands I saw was [Puffin Island](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puffin_Island_\(County_Kerry\)), and how many puffins were still out there, building nests, hatching pufflings, and fighting with their mates.

 


	2. May Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even if Tom left me, or I left Tom, my body would always know him, miss him, love him and the way he made me feel.

"Esme, please look at me."

We'd made it to the Slea Head, and parked in a patch of gravel near a steep path down to a rocky beach below.

"Darling, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to jerk the car like that."

Tom's voice sounded contrite but I still kept my face turned away from him. I closed my eyes, squeezing them tight so the tears that so desperately wanted to fall wouldn't escape.

A single tear pricked the inner corner of my right eye. Bastard. I couldn't even turn my head to hide it from him.

My eyes opened despite me willing them not to. I saw Tom turned towards me, looking mournful. He opened his mouth to say something.

And then his phone rang.

I unbuckled my seatbelt, taking a second before I opened my door and stepped out. Turning to face the car, I stared at Tom's phone, which still rang in his hand. I arched my eyebrow at it, then closed the door in his face.

The ground was lumpy and soft and so green. There were signs showing a human figure falling off a cliff, indicating the absence of ledges and fences, anything that might protect a hiker from, well, falling off a cliff. I ignored them, slipping to the edge and peeking over to see the ocean, the birds, islands in the distance, waves and rocks below. Something, anything.

Anything but Tom and his stupid phone.

I wasn't sure if I wanted Tom to come after me.

Fuck it, I did, but I didn't want to be that girl, the one who runs off expecting her boyfriend to come after her. I wanted to be the one who stayed and fought.

But who was I fighting? Was I fighting Tom? At this particular moment, sure, but not usually. Not always.

Maybe that was the problem. I wasn't used to being in a serious relationship, wasn't sure how to confront the truth that things aren't always perfect. I chuckled, knowing Tom would argue that he was, in fact, perfect, before making out with me. But I was used to being alone. Not having to compromise or inconvenience myself for the sake, for the love, of somebody else.

And if I wasn't careful, then I wouldn't have to. Because by then I might have driven him away.

I turned away from the cliff, heading north, tripping occasionally over knots in the grass that made the ground uneven. A cold wind blew up my kilt, slapping my bare thighs that were uncovered by stockings that only rolled up over my knees. Like any good American girl, I was shod in [Bean boots](http://www.llbean.com/llb/shop/513859?page=bean-boots&nav=ln-506708), perfect for tramping on soft, wet ground. There was no need to wipe my face, as the wind dried my tears as they fell down my cheeks.

I walked past an abandoned cottage, its windows covered in decades of dirt and salt and grass. The path tilted down, and wound through a narrow wooden gate.

I thought I could hear Tom calling my name and damn it, I looked, but I didn't see him. I thought about turning back, running to him, asking him to forgive me for taking off. I patted my pockets but they were empty, and my bag was in the car. No phone of my own to call, to text him.

I pushed the gate open and continued to walk. The path grew steep and I stumbled, cursing as I picked pebbles that stuck to my thighs and ass. The pebbles were colored, pastel pink and purple and blue. They were soft and sweet in the sun.

The path continued across a wooden footbridge that crossed over an outlet to a beach, where more pastel rocks gave way to sand and the water beyond. On the other side of the bridge, the path was rocky but easy enough to navigate. I scrambled up to find a field, almost a meadow, surrounded by a fence. At the far end of the field was a ladder, mounted there for hikers who wanted to venture closer to the slope that ran to the edge.

I clambered up the ladder, stopping to turn and look. I could see a figure in the distance, tall and lanky. I waved at it, wondering if it was Tom. Hoping it was Tom. The figure stopped, then crouched out of sight.

Sighing, I hopped down the fence, shrieking when I got caught on some metal teeth on one of the steps. I lifted my skirt, but I wasn't scratched or hurt. My underpants were snagged, caught on the step. Which sucked as they were lacy and cute and small but still fit well. Once I got them free, I pulled them off to look at them.

Nothing special but they were lacy and white, from the Primark near Oxford Circus, booty from a shopping trip I'd gone on after I'd come to London with Tom on Valentine's Day. Like everything from Primark, they were synthetic. I tied them around the top of the ladder, leaving them for anyone who needed nylon panties, and stumbled to a small slope nearby. I lay down, pulled my sunglasses up so I could squint at the sun and the sky and the clouds, then shut my eyes and dreamed of Tom.

Sometimes, I find myself taken aback by just how beautiful he really is. Really and truly. I have had the privilege of seeing him up close, in the firm and intermittently freckled flesh, of holding him in my arms while he kissed me, tickled me, fucked me.

The first time he touched me, he had pulled me into a hug, wrapping his arms around me. My face was pressed into his coat but I remember the feeling of his chin resting on top of my head, of his hands as they pulled mine up to his lips to kiss them. There was something visceral, almost primal, when our flesh met. A spark, then an exchange of heat, and then a fire that, try as I might with picking fights and giving in to feelings of doubt, still burned in me.

Even if Tom left me, or I left Tom, my body would always know him, miss him, love him and the way he made me feel.

I wondered if he felt the same.

"Esme?"

The sound of Tom's voice woke me and I startled awake, sitting up to find him in front of me. My skirt was flipped up but not all the way, so I tugged it down. I looked past Tom at the ladder, wondering if I could get my panties, but they were gone. So I made myself look at Tom.

Tom knelt on the ground in front of me. He smiled tenderly.

"Hi."

I waved.

"You have a nice nap?"

I wiped my eyes, then nodded.

"Are you okay?"

I shrugged, then nodded with more certainty.

Tom looked out at the water, then back at me.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

I looked at the water, but didn't turn to him to return his gaze. I smiled.

Tom knelt on the ground in front of me, a curious look on his face.

"Hold out your hand?" He asked.

I nodded, then held out my right hand.

"Close your eyes?"

I nodded again, then shut my eyes.

I heard him shift, moving so he was sitting next to me. He slipped an arm around me. I felt something small drop into my hands.

"Open your eyes, please."

I opened my eyes, moving my cupped hand in front of my chest. I looked down in it to find a pink pebble resting there.

The pebble was in the shape of a heart.

I started crying, closing my eyes when Tom drew me into him.

He pressed his lips to my cheek.

"Esme..." He whispered. "I'm sorry."

I nodded, then pressed the pebble to my lips so I could kiss it. Slipping the pebble into my pocket, I turned to meet Tom's face and kissed him.

His lips were pursed, pulsing against mine until I opened my mouth and flicked my tongue against his. I grabbed onto the nape of his neck, my hands enjoying the silky feel of his hair as it slipped through my fingers.

"Oh Petal..." Tom moaned into my mouth as I slipped my tongue around his, exploring his mouth.

I pulled him on top of me, parting my legs so he could lie between them. I placed his hands on my bare thighs, enjoying the gasp of surprise from him when he realized that I was bare underneath my skirt.

I slipped my hand between my legs, circling my clit with a finger and watching while Tom shifted his weight off me so he could unzip his trousers. His cock, dark and hard, sprung free and tapped my thigh.

Tom groaned when I waved my finger under his nose, then gasped when I slipped it between his lips. With my other hand, I reached down to take him in hand, rubbing my thumb over the head of his dick, spreading the bead of pre-cum that appeared.

I spread my legs wider, then rubbed the tip of his dick against my clit. I tortured us with this, rubbing but not positioning it at the entrance to my sex so he could take me like we both wanted him to. I was leaking, feeling my juices running down to my ass and no doubt staining my skirt and the grass beneath us. But I wanted to enjoy this, torture us both in this reunion of sorts.

All the while I could feel Tom breathing, panting, his face turned into my cheek. I turned to face him, and saw that his eyes were shut. No doubt so he could concentrate on not thrusting into me though we both could feel how ready I was.

I licked the spot where his shoulder met his neck, then suckled until I saw his eyes fly open.

"What are you doing to me, Pet?" Tom dragged out the word "doing", moaning the syllables.

I purred underneath him.

I moved my hands to his ass, grasping as I moved my hips up towards Tom's. When I dug my nails into him, Tom thrust into me, his cock filling and fucking me like I wanted him to, like I needed him to. I relished the sound of him entering me, the wet, slick sound of us meeting, then moving into each other. A sound I could hear over the wind that swept over us, the waves pounding beneath us, and my own heart beating wildly inside my chest.

Tom moved slowly, drawing himself up but not completely out before slipping back into me. Only for a second before he repeated the stroke.

I clenched, tightening my walls around him when he was seated inside me, but still he continued to pump, slowly and surely and ignoring the gasps and moans of protest from my throat. I wasn't strong enough to roll on top of him, to ride him selfishly and gladly to my own release. I had to let him set the pace.

He hummed. He actually hummed as he fucked me on the soft grass. He had his arms bent, elbows in the grass so he could brace himself, but his hands were free to stroke my face and my hair, actually tickle inside my ears.

He took his time as he took me.

I could do nothing but laugh, chuckling throatily as he continued.

"There's the laugh I love." Tom sighed, then began to move faster.

He bent down to kiss me, lapping the inside of my lips with long, slow strokes while below his hips bucked harder. His sighs turned into moans of satisfaction. He began to groan and even grunt as he moved faster, exerting himself like I knew he would.

I kept my hands on his ass, squeezing him and encouraging him to move and keep moving, to fuck and keep fucking, to never stop, to keep going, until he came, and then I came. His eyes were wide open, looking right at me, almost desperately and then I realized it was a different look.

It was a look I had seen before, when we'd fucked at O'Hare, after we had confessed that we were in love with each other. We had already been together, but that time in the airport was the first time we had known we were in love. This was no mere act of physical love, but one of possession. We were claiming each other, after having been lost, if only for a short while.

His hips jerked and I wrapped my legs around him, digging my ankles into his lower back. I enjoyed the bucking. It was my favorite part, the shuddering and the loss of control that pushed him closer into me even as the act seemed to wind down. Tom slumped down, resting his full weight on me. My second favorite part of the sexual act.

I slipped my hands under his coat and sweater, enjoying the feeling of his sweaty, almost sticky bare back. I felt Tom shift weight to one of his knees, then roll onto his back. He pulled me up so I lay along him, the feeling of his still wet cock on my leg.

I was breathing hard. So was he. I could feel his chest rise and fall sharply under me.

"Esme."

I turned my face up to look at him. His eyes were shining and clear, like he had just figured something out.

"Esme."

I smiled at him, raised my eyebrows at him expectantly.

"Esme Frances Grey."

Why was he using my full name?

"Esme Frances Grey, will you marry me?"

I closed my eyes but again, as ever, the tears managed to fall and betray any semblance of dignity I was trying to maintain as I gave my reply.

"Yes. Yes, Thomas William Hiddleston, I will marry you."


End file.
